Another Star in the Sky
by AccioxMagic
Summary: It's the winter of 1972; Ted and Andromeda Tonks are happily married, living a relatively peaceful life. Choas ensues as Andromeda becomes ill, and it's all Ted can do to refrain from stunning her and forcing her to see a Healer.
1. A Cranky Patient

When Andromeda threw up for the first time, it was on his shoes. One moment she was fine, laughing at some smartarsed joke he'd made, and the next she was losing her breakfast all over his feet.

Ted's stomach turned for a moment, but he only allowed a second for that to control him before he was gingerly slipping off his shoes, stepping around the area in which she was getting sick, and collecting her hair that had fallen around her face, one arm gently wrapping around her in support. She was sick for at least another five minutes, her body shuddering violently as it emptied the contents of her stomach. She'd begun to cry, and Ted's heart clenched at the sound. He began to reassure her that she was all right, that it was _all_ all right, and that as soon as she was finished he'd take her to bed.

True to his word, he lifted her into his arms once she finally righted herself.

"Ted, oh Teddy. I'm so sorry. How awful of me." Andromeda buried her face in his chest, causing her words to come out slightly muffled.

"Nonsense," he reassured her, bending to kiss her hair, "you've nothing to apologize for."

"Your shoes," she said weakly.

"They're shoes. I'm more worried about you." He said honestly. He began to think. Surely it couldn't be food poisoning, as he felt fine for the most part. Ted never did have an iron stomach when it came to others puking in front of him; It was a tiny miracle in itself that he didn't lose his breakfast as she did hers.

Ted's mind whirled, trying to puzzle out what had brought on this sudden sickness. Just as he had crossed off food poisoning, a light came on in his head: Arthur had mentioned his eldest had picked up a stomach bug late last week, and Andromeda did spend the weekend with his wife. They'd went to town together, as they often did, to window shop. He supposed. Something along those lines. Andromeda rarely came back with purchases, seeming to enjoy the time spent with Molly more than the actual shopping.

Arthur had complained that while he absolutely adored Molly while she was pregnant, and was simply thrilled to be expecting their second child, she simply couldn't stop buying new yarns to make another pair of booties. Or socks. Or hats. He'd joked on more than one occasion that by the time this baby came, they'd have enough articles of clothing to suit half a dozen children instead of just one – and that wasn't even counting all the baby clothes she'd held onto of Bill's!

When Arthur mentioned it the other day, he shrugged it off as one of those twenty-four hour things, so Ted was trying to hope for the best. He immediately decided to check at the chemist for something to settle her stomach while the virus ran its course. Potions were more Andromeda's thing, and even she had to admit sometimes Muggle medication was more effective than the magical equivalent.

Andromeda rarely fell ill, but when she did it often stuck for longer than normal. He dearly hoped this was not the case; he wasn't sure how long he could keep his stomach under control while being there for her.

Ted loved his wife more than anything in the world, but she was a horrid patient and was absolutely cantankerous whilst sick. He sighed as he settled her in their bed, pulling a bin over to her in case she got sick again.

It was going to be a long twenty-four hours.

A day passed, and she seemed slightly better, managing to keep crackers down without a problem. She wasn't running a fever and she didn't have the chills at all, but he could tell she still wasn't 100%. He managed to slip out while she slept, popping over to the chemist for her, hoping that the medications he picked up would be enough and that they wouldn't actually need a trip to a Healer. Not that he'd have much luck of convincing her to go to one.

He returned to find her losing her crackers in the water closet attached to their bedroom. He was simply grateful she'd made it there before throwing up, as he noticed his house shoes were dangerously close to the bin he'd placed at her bedside the night before. He made a mental note to put up his shoes until she was back to rights again.

"Darling, I've something that should help, but it says you should eat something first." Ted called, hanging his coat up in the hall. She responded by retching even more violently.

Ted grimaced. Later then.

By the third day, he'd decided that she was just going to have to suck it up, that she _needed_ medical attention.

As it happened, she didn't agree. _Huge surprise there_ , he thought to himself.

"Black's don't get sick, Theodore." Andromeda spat waspishly when he'd made the suggestion.

"Pity you aren't a Black anymore, Drom. Us Tonkses are mere mortals that do get sick and require medical care every now and then!" He shot back, entirely numb to her ill disposition by this point, but not so numb that he'd take her ill tempered words in silence. He'd been puked on twice more and he wasn't sure his stomach could take much more of it; Ted was seriously tempted to stun her, throw her stubborn arse over his shoulder, and Floo them both straight to St. Mungo's.

That'd go over brilliantly when she woke up. He grimaced, deciding to wait just a tad longer before resorting to such drastic –and dangerous– methods.

Ted showered around eleven, about thirty minutes after he'd made sure Andromeda was sleeping soundly once more. He trimmed the dirty blonde scruff on his face, taking the time necessary to trim the hair up evenly. During the warmer months Ted tended to stay clean shaven, but once the air turned frosty he was less inclined to shave his face bare. Andromeda wasn't fussy, as long as he never allowed it to turn straggly, which is exactly the state it had been in fifteen minutes prior.

Andromeda was absent from their bed once he'd finished his grooming, and Ted desperately hoped he wasn't going to find her retching in the hallway. He quickly dressed and went in search of her.

He noticed a fresh pot of tea on the stove as he moved into the kitchen and he smiled. If she was well enough to make tea, then maybe she actually was getting better. He busied himself with filling his favorite mug up, and quickly cast a warming charm on it when he discovered it'd gone cold already.

No matter to him, he wasn't too fussy. The frigid outside air was leaching in through the old, seasoned wood of their walls, and Ted was grateful to have tea to warm him. Tea and a thick quilt, that's all he needed. And a wife that wasn't sick, he silently amended.

His eyes fell to the dying fire as he padded into their living room; it was no wonder he couldn't warm prided himself on the many Muggle habits and chores he kept for himself, refusing to ever rely on magic for absolutely everything. However, after the past few days he had, he felt no guilt whatsoever in stoking the fire with a flick of his wand. He sighed in satisfaction as the warmth began to spread through the air almost instantly.

Ted was just about to take a long drink of his tea when he heard Andromeda slam the lid to the toilet, the flush of the plumbing, and her mutter of a charm that cleaned her mouth. She stomped into their living room and opened her mouth to say something back to him, but her words were drowned out by the shattering of Ted's mug of tea.

His mouth fell open and he was momentarily struck silent, unable to form actual words.

"You- you're a- Andromeda, your hair!"

She looked at him like he was a Blast-Ended Skrewt, her eyes rolling in disgust. "My apologies for the rat's nest, husband; I haven't exactly had a moment to do much of anything with it. As I've been puking my guts out. Remember?"

If Ted weren't so shocked, he would have applauded her on her level of sarcasm at such a time. She certainly hadn't lost her attitude when she married him – not that he would have ever wished her too. As it were, he dismissed her snappy retort and shook his head wildly. "Not that, you witch, it's _red_!"

Andromeda scoffed and looked at him like he'd lost all sense. She began to pull if from the messy knot she'd tied it up in the early hours of the morning. It took some tugging, but eventually it pulled loose, falling past her shoulders in a massive wavy mess. "It certainly is _not_ ," Drom began in a tone that announced she was right and he was wrong, but then as she started to say 'see' the words died on her lips.

He most certainly did see, but more importantly, so did his wife.

"Bloody hell, I'm more ginger than all the Weasleys combined!" With the same sense of urgency she seemed to have when she felt the bile rising in her throat, she ran to the closest mirror, Ted close on her heels.

"Why am I ginger, Ted? I don't _want_ to be ginger, Teddy!" She practically screeched. And just like that, her natural color returned to her hair. He watched in fascination as her rich caramel and coffee strands were instantly leached of the vibrant red, vanishing without a trace.

Her eyes widened in panic and quickly filled with tears. Ted's heart lurched and he gathered her in his arms, soothing her the best way he knew how. "It's okay, love, it's perfectly okay. I'm sure it's just some strange Wizarding flu. Yeah?"

Unfortunately, Ted's words sounded weak even to him. He heaved a sigh and hugged her close. "Let's go see my mum, shall we? She'll get this sorted, even if it is some magical malady. No hospital, no healers. Just Mum. How's that sound?"

Ted didn't admit that he had an ulterior motive for taking her to his mother, and luckily for him, Andromeda was too exhausted and upset to spot it. His mother could be the bad copper, so to speak. She'd insist on taking Andromeda round to hospital if she thought her condition merited it. After a few decades working as a nurse, she was quite used to dealing with unwilling patients, which his wife certainly was. And as an added plus, she knew exactly how to play Andromeda, her daughter-in-law putty in her hands. Ted's Mum could do most anyone that way, which was entertaining to see as long as you weren't the person she was bending to her will.


	2. Mum Knows Best

Forty minutes later, Ted was toweling off his wife, kissing her bare skin as he did so. Her hair was wet and dripping, but she quickly took care of that herself, twirling and flicking her wand in a pattern he'd never been able to master. Moments later it was dry, bouncing with a life it hadn't really had for the past three days.

Andromeda looked miserable, and he imagined she truly was. It hurt his heart to see her so sick and he hoped his mum knew how to help her. Or at least, be the one to bully her into a trip to a clinic. He wrapped her in a quilt they'd kept charmed to heat itself, and left her standing by their bed while he hunted out warm clothing for her to wear.

"I want your Quidditch sweater," she called, right as he was pulling that very thing off its hanger. He smiled to himself. She wore it more than he did, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

There was something about seeing her in his clothes (especially in his old Hufflepuff things) that he loved. It marked her as his, and he'd be lying if that didn't please him beyond reason. It helped, of course, that she'd worn that jumper – and nothing but that jumper – the first time they'd slept together. Making love to her after peeling off a piece of his Quidditch kit? That sight would be burned into his memory for as long as he lived.

He dug out a heavy pair of his jogging bottoms and two pairs of her thickest woolen socks. He knew better than to risk letting her feet get cold. She was a menace when healthy if her feet got cold on her; he did not need to see what happened when she was sick and had frozen toes.

He eased the clothing onto her, helping her dress. She smiled up at him and his heart did a few flips. Regardless of what she might be sick with, he leaned in to kiss her softly. "I love you, Andromeda Tonks. Even when you've a foul temper and even fouler breath." He smiled wickedly at her, laughing at the look on her face. When a short laugh escaped her lips he was relieved, happy to hear even a small giggle escape her.

As she wriggled her feet into her favorite pair of winter boots, he stepped into the kitchen to ring his parents and let them know they were coming for a visit. He quickly explained things to his father, who promised to relay his message to his mother.

"Preferred method of travel, love?" Ted didn't reckon there'd be any good way to get to his parent's place, as they were all rather rubbish if ones' stomach was unsteady.

She groaned, leaning back onto their bed in a huff. "Driving. I'm not actually nauseous at the moment, but I don't want to push my luck by Apparating or Flooing. That could get… messy." She looking green at the mere thought of it.

Ted sighed in relief after hearing her answer. He had made the mistake of Flooing whilst sick, once. It didn't end well, and he had sworn never to do so again.

"Right you are, Dromeda. Let me just go turn the car on, and cast a few warming spells to tide us over until the heat kicks in."

Luckily for them, they didn't live far from his childhood home at all and the trip was entirely uneventful. No ice on the roads, no vomit from his wife, and no more sudden and drastic hair changes. Maybe their luck was changing and she was literally on the road to recovery.

"Teddy, really, you needn't carry my like I'm an invalid!" Andromeda protested from the moment he'd opened the passenger door, but Ted was pretending he couldn't hear her. His father was waiting for them on the front porch, ready to open the door for them. Ted nodded to him in greeting, and thanked him as he held the door open for him as he continued to carry Andromeda inside.

His father followed them, concern deepening the lines across his face.

"Oh, honestly. Put me down, Ted Tonks! Now!"

His dad chuckled, "Best do as she says son, she looks like a biter."

"She is."

"I am," she muttered darkly at the same moment Ted spoke.

"You are what, dear?" Ted's mum asked as she swept into the room, concern written all over her face as well.

"Sick," Ted said, ignoring the mutinous look his wife was sending him. "Our friends, the Weasley's, had a stomach bug make the rounds last week, and it's been harassing Drom since Monday morning. Someone," here his eyes shot over to meet Andromeda's, "doesn't want to admit how ill she actually is."

"I'm fine–"

"You are _not_ fine, Andromeda, your hair turned red on it's own!"

"Is that normal for witches?" His father asked, perplexed.

His mother tsked him and shooed him and his father out of the way. They exchanged knowing looks, both acknowledging that they'd been dismissed.

"Come along then, son. I've some shepard's pie in the oven, kept it warm for ya."

Ted thanked his dad enthusiastically –he truly was starving–, but when he looked at Andromeda he forgot his hunger for a moment and replaced it with worry. She'd grown pale, and was beginning to look like she was about to…

Aaand he was right. He'd seen that look plenty over the past few days to know.

Thankfully, his mother was quick on her feet and already had the small bin that normally sat next to the couch in his poor wife's lap. She shot her husband and son a dirty look and Ted knew better than to try to go and comfort his wife.

His dad murmured a short, but sincere apology and practically dragged Ted to the kitchen.

"Don't worry, Dad. She's been like this for days, it's nothing you did." Ted helped himself to the waiting food, greedily stuffing an oversized helping into his mouth.

"Never did know how to pace yourself, son." His dad said with a hearty chuckle that sounded like a gruffer version of his own.

Ted shrugged; He knew better than to turn down a home cooked meal, especially if it came from his parents. It was too bad his dad hadn't made a pudding.

After Ted had cleaned his plate and rooted around in the kitchen for any other leftovers, he sat back down with his father and looked at him helplessly, his face in his hands.

"I dunno, Dad. She's as stubborn as they come, and she loathes hospitals."

"Let your mother do her own magic, Teddy boy." His dad reached over to scruff up his hair, in the same manner he'd done since before Ted could remember.

"That's another thing!" He exclaimed, once again coming back to Andromeda's disturbing change in appearance this morning. "Her hair turned red, Dad. Out of nowhere. And no," Ted stopped his father from interrupting, "I have never seen or heard of an illness that makes someone throw up and suddenly get a new hair colour as an added bonus."

"That's because I'm not sick." Andromeda's voice floated into the kitchen.

Ted stood hastily.

"What do you mean you 'aren't sick'? Of course you're sick, you plum! Or have you forgotten my house shoes? Mum must finally be losing her touch," he said, mostly to his father.

Andromeda positively beamed and Ted's faced screwed up in confusion. "Don't say such things about your mother, Ted. And shut your mouth for once, will you?"

Ted shut his mouth dramatically and threw his hand out, urging her to continue.

"As I was saying. I'm not sick. I'm pregnant."


End file.
